


enharmonics

by lady_peony



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_peony/pseuds/lady_peony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Natori is a terrible shoujo heroine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	enharmonics

Shuuichi had thought it would be the last meeting. The name released like a farewell, the slow, inevitable steps in his own direction. On his own, like the beginning.

The whispers the week after come as a surprise.

The story: Two boys, not yet out of high school, hands unscarred and just newly-trained, had taken down what their elders could not.

"I thought," Shuuichi says pointedly,"I said _you_ could take the sole credit."

Matoba Seiji looks up. Props his elbow on his desk to rest his head against his hand. "Well. Shall we make the next one a competition, Shuuichi-san?"

 

-

 

"Are you angry?" Seiji says. The only detectable emotion in his question is one of nonchalant curiosity.

"No," Shuuichi says, then jerks his head to the side to stare at Seiji. "Yes! How did you even know where my locker was? How did all that paper even find it?" 

"Can't tell you," Seiji says simply.

"Thanks a lot. Now Aoi-san next to me thinks I have something haunting my locker." 

"A school ghost, perhaps?" Seiji says, foregoing innocence for a smirk. Any school ghost probably seems like a small fish compared to the foes Seiji has faced before--from what they have faced. "So you recognized the talismans. Did you keep them?" 

Shuuichi shifts his bag strap over his shoulder. "I _could have_ put them in recycling. You're not going to tell me what each of them mean, are you? Or tell me these are too basic?"

Seiji tosses his head, hair settling back from where the wind had blown it in front of his eyes. "It would be no fun. Don't you like puzzles?"

"I don't like wasting time." Shuuichi turns his head back to look at the road. "And I was never good at puzzles."

"So what are you good for?"

"I thought you already studied me before. Shouldn't you know?"

"Not up close," Seiji says, batting back a reply effortlessly.

"You know, if they want to know something, people usually know how to ask a question." 

Seiji presses his lips into a considering line. "I'm doing that now." 

Shuuichi wonders if Seiji normally has other things he should be doing, other than walking with Shuuichi after school. He hadn't asked Seiji. Not that he would give a straightforward answer, even if Shuuichi did think to ask. 

"Oh! Young master, you have a friend today?" Sumi-san slides open the door to the front entrance, an empty tray tucked under one arm, and an envelope in her other hand.

Shuuichi opens his mouth. He hadn't realized he had walked all the way back already. He looks back at Seiji, who blinks at him with an air of irreproachable innocence. 

"Do you want some tea?" Shuuichi manages to say, politeness papering automatically over his initial surge of exasperation. 

"Pardon the intrusion," Seiji says, dashing all of Shuuichi's hopes of a refusal and an afternoon doing--well, doing nothing by himself, to be truthful. Shuuichi never needed to expend much effort towards his studies.

Shuuichi supposes Seiji could have a snack for walking all this way. Only as thanks for the talismans tucked inside Shuuichi's literature notebook. 

Sumi-san smiles at Shuuichi when she delivers a tray of tea and rice crackers. 

Maybe, Shuuichi grudgingly admits an hour later, Seiji isn't the worst study partner ever. Except for the rustle of pages, the occasional birdcall from the open window of the room, the indistinguishable hums of passing yokai, the room stays quiet. 

He changes his mind when Seiji manages to take the last cracker from under Shuuichi's fingers. 

 

-

 

"I don't understand," Shuuichi says, "how this is your idea of a spending a good afternoon."

The rustling sound of a page, turning. "Reading? Less risky than spell experimentation," Seiji says, without looking up. 

"I know why I'm here," Shuuichi waves a hand at the stack of books by his right, "but you?"

"You told me where you were going." Seiji brings up a hand and turns another page. 

"That wasn't an invitation," Shuuichi says. He is aware of several stares darting their way and makes an attempt to soften his next words. His right hand flips the pages of the book, heading to the back towards the index. "That was only so you wouldn't run over and bother Sumi-san with questions." 

Seiji only stares at Shuuichi in response, a corner of his lip twitching, before glancing down again at his book. Shuuichi just catches a glimpse of a line ( _even if rain comes or not_ ) before Seiji lifts the volume up. 

Shuuichi turns back to his own book. The figure drawing on that page bore the closest resemblance to the image he had seen on the board last week. The description of its weaknesses, on the other hand, seem less than accurate.

His hand reaches out for the next book on the stack he has in the middle of the table, in danger of wobbling over to Seiji's side of the table. The stack lowers to two books. One. Shuuichi resists the urge to rub at his eyes, inky characters floating in soft-edged focus in his mind.

"Spicy or regular?"

Shuuichi lifts his head. "What?"

"If you won't tell me, I can guess."

"Fine," Shuuichi says, flaps a hand at Seiji. "Guess away."

Seiji unfolds his elbows from the table. Stands and walks with a blue-bound volume under his right arm. Maybe now Shuuichi could find the book he was looking for in peace and quiet. 

How many eyes did that drawing have anyways? Shuuichi squints a little, tries to count it five times, before letting the book fall closed with a thud. He rests his cheek against the table, eyes catching on the dust motes glowing in a sunbeam's path. 

The sound of something like paper tearing jolts him awake. 

He had nearly fallen asleep, he realized, swipes a hand across his eyes. Across from him, Seiji is crunching politely from a bag patterned in cheerful red and yellow. 

"You shouldn't be eating here," Shuuichi says, irritation softened by a half-yawn.

"Outside then," Seiji says, without dropping a single crumb from his lips. "Take that book with you--no, the other one. Leave the rest." 

Shuuichi looks down at the cover of the book under his hand, blinks in surprise at the other bag of chips resting on top of it. Regular-flavored. Shuuichi finishes the whole bag before they even reach the station. 

The train ride back is loud with the chatter of students and impatient office workers, smooth-voiced station announcements monotonous and slightly comforting in their familiarity.

Seiji stands the whole way back next to Shuuichi, head nearly leaning against the pole pressing on Shuuichi's left shoulder. 

 

-

 

"Were you worried?"

Shuuichi grits his teeth. "I was. Are you happy now? To hear that?" 

He turns to the teapot, watches the water pour into Seiji's cup to give himself time to compose his face. 

Two days without a word was not unusual. Three warranted one paper doll, which only gave a fruitless non-response. 

Shuuichi is not one for social visits. This didn't count, if he didn't even think to buy a gift for it. 

He's aware of eyes on his back as he sets the teapot down, keeping his hands careful and slow when lifting the cup brimming a pale green-gold. He hands it to Seiji, skirts his gaze away from Seiji's eyes. 

Seiji's breath puffs over the cup before he speaks again. "Whatever you may think, this is only a--" He's cut off by an awful ragged sound, like something trying to dislodge a fishline from mud. 

Seiji's shoulders shake with the cough. Shuuichi's hand catches onto the cup, removes it from Seiji's palms before anything can be spilled. Shuuichi holds back a hiss at the heat, sets it down back on the table. Only two drops had escaped onto Shuuichi's right knuckle. 

Seiji turns his head, swallows. "It was just a cold. But for your visit, I thank you." 

"It's not a--," Shuuichi says, focusing his eyes on the corner of a scroll by the window. "It wasn't that out of the way. Sorry about your tea." He puts the back of his hand against the curve of the cup. Feels a gentler warmth than the uncomfortable heat before. 

"Here," Shuuichi says, resting the cup into Seiji's open fingers. He tilts his head downwards, tries to avoid knocking into Seiji's head because of their proximity.

Seiji murmurs his thanks, looks up at him through eyes which seem a little sharper now. 

"Shuuichi--"

A knock sounds. 

Seiji sucks in a breath, cocks his head towards the screen. 

Shuuichi rolls back from the futon. Sits up cross-legged by his bag. His foot rests in shadow, away from the square of light on Seiji's hand, thin fingers splayed open on the edge of the futon and the tatami beneath it. 

"I should go," Shuuichi says, fingers fiddling with the strap of his bag.

"You're a guest," Seiji says. 

The knock echoes again from behind the screen, more politely insistent now.

Seiji looks towards Shuuichi, one hand tensing over the cover of the blanket on his lap.

The door slides open before Shuuichi can stand. 

Shuuichi sees a dark-haired woman glide in, the rustle of her gray sleeves and her steps quiet as water. The tray in her hands is burdened with a steaming bowl, lidded. Porridge, from the scent rising off the bowl.

The servant doesn't speak to Shuuichi, eyes darting towards Seiji once before acknowledging Shuuichi with a low nod. 

He slips out, his fingers resting on the wooden frame of the screen. Turns his head to see Seiji still sitting up, cup nested between his fingertips. 

"Get better quickly," Shuuichi says, curt. "I'm not sure I could find my way here a second time."

 

-

 

_"What did you do?"_

"Today? Nothing worth discussing."

"Just. Stop." Shuuichi makes a grimace, looking again at Seiji's face. The line on his left side, horizontally across his cheekbone, shines scarlet. Shuuichi hopes it's not poisoned. Basic purification spells he knows, but they could be useless in this case. "Get in." 

Shuuichi slides open the front door, hard enough for it to shake the tiniest bit in its frame before settling. Seiji shows no reaction to the sound, only slides his shoes off at the front, walks with a nearly noiseless tread behind Shuuichi. 

The closest room with the supplies that Shuuichi was thinking of would be down this hall, yes. Then a left turn. Then a step into the second room on the right side of the corridor. 

A sound of a dry cough and a creaking noise echoes from Shuuichi's left, near the end of the hall. A shadow stretches taller as a soft thump echoes, like something pressing down on the mats. A cane with a silhouette. 

Shuuichi snaps his head up, reaches out his left hand to snag Seiji's sleeve. 

"This way." If they took the turn on the right, then through the other hallway, they should be able to avoid awkward questions.

Seiji doesn't hesitate to follow, to Shuuichi's relief. 

Shuuichi's room is not as well-stocked as the restroom he had thought of. It would have to do, nevertheless. From the corner of his eye, Shuuichi sees Seiji's glance run over the surroundings. Considering his past number of visits, they should be a familiar sight now. The calendar on the wall with the uneven fringes of ripped paper. The desk by the window, heavily sprinkled with spare charm paper and mail and the odd book.

While wrestling to unroll a new strip of bandages, Shuuichi sorts through all the questions he could ask, settles on one. "So." He pauses, not sure how Seiji would react. "Ran into a stray cat, did you?"

"In a manner of speaking." Seiji smoothly kneels on the floor, on a spot just next to Shuuichi. The movement unsettles some of his bangs, a few strands falling close enough to nearly overlap entirely over the wound. 

Shuuichi will need to get those out of the way. His hand digs around the edges of the box by his side. Brushes into something that feels like a string. 

"Turn your head," Shuuichi says. 

Seiji moves his gaze from the corner bookshelf back to Shuuichi's face. "I only require a bandage, if you have one." 

"How can you tend to it yourself without a mirror? Your hair. It's in the way." 

Seiji frowns a little but doesn't offer any retort. He reaches a hand up to adjust a button on his school collar. Reorients his seating until the back of his head is before Shuuichi's hands. 

Strands of Seiji's hair keep slipping from Shuuichi's fingertips, some too short to be tied. Shuuichi leaves those alone, gathers the rest into a handful. As swiftly as he can, he knots the string. The result is sloppy but holds well enough. When adjusting the string, the tip of his right thumb brushes, careless, over the back of Seiji's neck.

Shuuichi pulls his hand back. He senses his gecko scurry down the length of his elbow to rest on his wrist. "You can turn back now."

A few bangs have slipped out to fan over the sides of Seiji's face. But most of it is out of the way. The wound is still there, a clear red arc over a pale cheekbone.

"You might want to close your eyes," Shuuichi says. "This'll sting." 

Seiji's throat moves, releases an exhale veering near to exasperation. He follows Shuuichi's instructions, nevertheless.

The smell of disinfectant spreads, strong and overpowering. Shuuichi doesn't speak, one hand daubing the now-dampened cloth over the cheek. The gauze follows, and after that, the tape. 

The edge of his fingernail smooths the last corner of tape over the gauze, close to the line of dark lashes. Seiji opens his eyes then.

One of Shuuichi's fingers is still pressed over the gauze on Seiji's cheek, the fingers of his other hand lightly supporting Seiji's chin.

"How is it," Seiji says softly, eyes glinting, "that you don't have any mirrors at hand?"

The vibrations from Seiji's words reach Shuuichi's fingertips. Shuuichi drops both hands from Seiji's face.

"I did have one," Shuuichi says, fingers now busy with repacking bandages into their slots. "Before that assignment last week, at least."

Seiji smirks. Or rather, his lips pull up to one side, before giving up the attempt. One of his hands drift up to press on the gauze. 

"Don't mess with it." Shuuichi closes the first aid kit with a sharp click. 

Seiji stands, wanders over to where Shuuichi is placing the kit back on his desk. "By the by," Seiji says, looking over Shuuichi's desk, then the view beyond the window, "you might want to keep an eye on the wards on the southern grounds." 

"You came in from the front door," Shuuichi says. Seiji just smiles, doesn't answer Shuuichi's tacit question.

When Shuuichi goes over his desk later, putting aside timetables and appointment letters, he comes across an envelope that he hadn't seen that morning. He turns it over in his hands once, reaches for a letter opener.

 

-

 

"Why did you come? Didn't you say you were busy?"

The other figure's response is muffled by the scarf tucked around his face. The girl laughs at his reply, high and delighted, wavy hair swaying with her movements. The boy ducks his head, reaches out a hand to transfer the brown paper bag from the girl's arm to his own.

Shuuichi brings up his head, watches the matched red coats move off together.

Beneath the bridge under his feet, the river cuts a luminous vein through the greenery. He flicks a few leaves from the rail and watches them flutter down towards the river. 

The ground shifts from pale stone to softer earth. A burst of air wings through the grass, blowing his hair back as he sits down. Shuuichi runs his fingers through the grass by his knees. 

When his hand hits a whitish pebble, about the size of an egg, he picks it up.

Draws in his arm. Tosses it out with a smooth, careless motion.

The stone skips, and Shuuichi counts, one, two---oh. It sinks below the line of the river, deeper than where Shuuichi's eyes can see. 

Shuuichi bends in his elbow, throws the next pebble. 

One. Two. Three. Better than his first attempt. Not far enough, still.

Shuuichi lies back down, crossing one arm under his head.

A shadow falls across Shuuichi's arm, stretches over the waiting right hand, empty of any stones.

"I never thought Shuuichi-san would be one to play delinquent," Seji says. Then he bends down, scoops something up in hand. The stone spins a turn between Seiji's fingers, before whipping straight through the air. 

Hops once, twice, up to four times. Sinks gently out of sight on the last splash. 

Shuuichi doesn't bother hiding a snicker. 

Seiji's face is hard to see from the side, even with the afternoon sunlight spilling between clouds in thin fulgent bands. Cross, perhaps, if Shuuichi's imagination is correct. 

"I'm not a delinquent," Shuuichi says. "It's just for today." 

Seiji turns to look straight at him, expression even crosser, if possible. A rare look. 

Shuuichi knows Seiji isn't the kind to care about Shuuichi's grades, not that Shuuichi himself worried overmuch about them. 

"It's not like you went to school to wait for me, did you." 

Seiji lifts his chin a bit. "Would that be strange?"

Shuuichi opens his mouth.

Not if it was for someone you liked, Shuuichi almost says.

Not if.

"Why would you?" Shuuichi says. Anything else he wants to say is suddenly caught, tangled somewhere under his ribs. Seiji is looking right at him for, for something, some sign, and Shuuichi doesn't know _what_ he is looking for.

Seiji flicks his gaze away, stands to his feet. "Do you want me to leave?"

"That is--I--" Nothing in his head but wind, sweeping everything clean, save for those words. Too late. Too late to pull back now. "Don't. Seiji." 

The last comes out a low, shaking thing. 

Seiji has stopped, like there is a kite string strung between Shuuichi's throat and Seiji's spine.

Like Shuuichi calling after him means something.

"You invited me to your birthday party," Shuuichi goes on, unsure of everything, except that he has to keep talking. "I'm--I'm not going out of town until then."

"What difference to me would it make? You may go where you wish."

Shuuichi sees Seiji's face, looking at him now at least. But he's not close enough, not enough to speak properly. Shuuichi pushes himself up with his hands.

One step then. And another. "Why," Shuuichi says, "are you not surprised that I'm leaving town?"

Seiji's expression doesn't change, although his shoulders seem to stiffen. 

"You. Didn't I-Didn't I tell you? You could have asked _me_ instead of researching on your own? The audition would take two days. At the most."

Seiji blinks, confusion reined in enough to pass for merely puzzled. "The tickets on your desk were--?"

"The tickets were two-way. You didn't know?"

"Ah," Seiji says. 

Their attention is distracted briefly by the sound of rustling branches, only to be greeted by the sight of a flock wheeling into the sky, some of them cawing faintly.

"If I knew you'd miss me," Shuuichi says turning his eyes back towards Seiji's, "Next time, we can go together."

"What sort of promise is that?" Seiji murmurs.

"We're not children." Or so Shuuichi says; decides on a whim anyways to offer up his right hand, the last finger extended. 

Seiji looks to the side and yields up a laugh, fingers reaching over to cross the gap. 

One. two. three. four. five.

**Author's Note:**

> so my brain went
> 
>  ~~TOMODAAAA~~ natori~!!!! matoba~!!!! we'll write your happy ending for you!!!!
> 
> and how could i refuse.
> 
> ETA: darkcyan out of the GOODNESS OF HER HEART drew me an [amazing fic art](http://cyanmnemosyne.tumblr.com/post/133176118473/strands-of-seijis-hair-keep-slipping-from). i <3 it a lot.


End file.
